


Resolution

by Wolfsbride



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/pseuds/Wolfsbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond grows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mysticmelodies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticmelodies/gifts), [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/gifts), [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a bit of fluff. Apparently, I'm incapable of fluff. That's a warning, in case it's not clear. So, you know, if you're expecting fluff; this is not it.

Bond’s fingers tapped idly on the top of his desk as he stared at nothing, mind wandering. Valentine’s Day was rapidly approaching, and with it a sense of anticipation, twinned with unease. It was making his stomach curdle. 

Already there were overtures being made, some subtly, some more overt. It wasn’t even like he could blame them; he did have his reputation, after all. Not that he wanted it anymore. 

No. The only person he really wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with seemed bound and determined to ignore all his hints and advances. He sighed.

There wasn’t anything he could do about M’s attitude. And as much as it pained him, he understood her reasons. The only thing he could change was himself. He didn’t want to spend another year having meaningless sex. He was no longer in his twenties; it was time he grew up. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

M stared at the report without really seeing it. She was thinking about Bond, and though the man was away on a mission and would be for another day or so, her thoughts were not at all work related. She was in fact wondering if her agent was ill. 

All week she’d been privy to women of all sorts drifting through Bond’s office. She was sure that more than half the female population of MI6 had visited Bond at one point or the other. It’d got so bad that even Tanner had made a quip about Piccadilly Circus and charging admission. 

The odd thing was that all those women had gone away disappointed. And even stranger, he’d stopped flirting with her. It shouldn’t have even bothered her because his behaviour had been horribly inappropriate, but she was honest enough to admit that she missed it. She missed the way they interacted with each other. She was drawn out of her musings when Tanner entered her office, file folder in hand, a strange expression on his face. 

“Bill? Are you alright?” 

Passing the folder over to her, Tanner cleared his throat. “From 007, ma’am. He’s completed the mission and will be flying back to London tonight. He... It... It was a clean mission, ma’am.” 

Well, that explained his look, M thought. A clean mission meant no mishaps, which for Bond meant he hadn’t blown up anything he wasn’t supposed to or killed anyone he shouldn’t have. A miracle. 

“I see. Thank you Tanner.”

She watched Tanner leave and then looked down at the file folder he had given her. What are you up to Mr Bond, she wondered.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Bond entered her office, M gestured to a chair. “Please take a seat, Bond.” She watched as he sat and looked him over carefully. There was a bump on his left temple and a cut below his left eye. There was also a bruise colouring his right cheek. “You look a bit worse for wear than I had anticipated given the status of the mission.”

Bond straightened, body tensing a little. ‘Yes, well. That’s what happens when I don’t blow things up and kill people. I get roughed up for my trouble.”

M frowned. Now she was really concerned. Her agent wasn’t usually this prickly. “James, are you alright? Your behaviour this past week has been...” M trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence in a manner that didn’t involve giving away her feelings. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, Bond sighed. “Permission to speak freely?” He asked, meeting her gaze.

M’s eyebrows went up. “Since when have you ever asked to speak your mind?” She felt like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole.

Bond shrugged. “It seemed like something you’d want.”

Filing that away for the moment, M motioned for him to continue. 

Bond sat silently, trying to find an eloquent way to say what was on his mind. He'd spent all this time trying to work up the courage to approach her, and now that the moment had come, he was having a hard time putting his thoughts into words. He weighed his options carefully. 

Sweet talk had never worked on M. She never seemed to care for his usual suave and debonair persona, all the things that made him Bond. She was the type who liked to get right to the point. He thought then that perhaps being direct was the way to go. Perhaps it was time for her "blunt instrument" to live up to his nickname.

Taking a deep breath, Bond finally spoke. “The two of us have been dancing around each other for several years now. I know you have your reasons and I understand why you feel the way you do. And I just thought, well, why make it harder on you? I also know you think I’m playing some sort of game with you. You don’t take me seriously.” 

Bond’s mind went back to his thoughts from the previous week. “I figured it was time I grew up.” Bond kept his gaze pinned to the corner of M’s desk. He didn’t particularly want to see her reaction; he was sure her words would be enough.

M stared at her agent in surprise. So he had actually been listening all those times she’d ranted at him. The underlying reasons for her rebuff of him hadn’t changed. Except one. He was right in saying she hadn’t thought him serious, but now she wondered. “So your behaviour with our staff...” Again she stopped.

Bond shifted his gaze from M’s desk to her face. “They’re not who I want and I’m tired of sleeping with someone and wishing they were someone else.” 

The silence drew out between them for several minutes before M got to her feet, rounded the corner of her desk, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Valentine’s Day is next week. I’ll give you my answer then.”

Bond looked up at her, startled. “Ma’am?”

“You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought. It’s only fair to you that I do so as well.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then went back to her desk.

“I... Thank you.” Bond was at a loss for words, which he realized he very frequently was around M. “Good night, ma’am.”

“Good night, Bond.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was after hours and MI6 was quiet. Somewhere the guards were making their rounds and M sat at her desk, debating whether or not to go home. She’d finally finished all the bloody paper work Tanner had so helpfully piled onto the corner of her desk. She could in fact leave with a clear conscience. 

The only thing stopping her was that she’d promised Bond she would think seriously about his advances. In her mind, her flat was not conducive to clear thinking about Bond. Her flat was like their meeting ground. They’d had almost as many confrontations there, as they’d had at the office. At least at the office, Bond would rein himself in, not push her buttons in quite the same way.

With a sigh, she pushed her chair back and got up to go raid her liquor cabinet. Bond was right. They had been circling this issue for quite long enough; it was time to put it to rest. Pouring herself a generous helping of bourbon, she kicked off her shoes, and sat down again. She turned her chair to face the back wall of her office, instead of the mirrored front and took a sip.

As she savoured the flavour of her bourbon, she thought about the conversation she’d had with Bond. A part of her was still wondering if this was just a game to Bond despite his claim to seriousness. It would be rather a long con, if it were, and though there had been many instances in their interactions with each other, where a lesser man might have wanted to get some of his own back, she would like to think that Bond respected her position, if nothing else, and would not stoop to humiliating her. However, a niggle of doubt remained.

She couldn’t help feeling that his refusal to partake of the female bounty being bestowed upon him, that his words, were just another step of the plan to get into her knickers. James Bond had had many conquests. Was she just one more bed warmer in a long line of bed warmers? A feather in his cap, so to speak? 

Or perhaps it was less malicious and it was merely pity he felt. Perhaps her widowed state made Bond think that she needed someone, especially during this time that was traditionally devoted to lovers. She didn’t doubt that he was serious; it was the why of it that baffled her. 

What was it that Bond wanted from her? She wondered, taking another sip of her drink. Sex with no strings attached? A real relationship? She was more than twenty years his senior. What on earth could be in it for him? What was the catch?

M raised her glass and took a larger swallow. Just this one time she wished she could turn off her brain. She was so used to analyzing every side of a problem, calculating the odds, the motives, the outcome. She wished she could just take a leap of faith. But that was not the person she was.

Sighing, M stared down into the remaining amber liquid, swirling the contents as though hoping to divine the answer in its depths. What if Bond genuinely desired a relationship with her? What then? The age gap was the least of her worries. There was the work atmosphere to think of. And even more complicated: her feelings on monogamy. Was Bond even capable of fidelity? He was turning away offers now, but once he got what he wanted would he remain true? She didn’t expect him to be faithful on a mission. Sometimes, sex was the only way of getting the required information. She knew and understood that. But beyond the mission...

Tossing back the last of her drink, M got to her feet. She took the empty glass into her private bathroom, where she rinsed it, before coming back out into the main office to store it away. Slipping on her shoes, she put on her jacket, grabbed her bag, and then left her office to head home.

~*~*~*~*~*~

M waited impatiently for Bond to join her in her office. She’d asked Tanner to clear her schedule, and she’d also asked him to hold all her calls. She wanted no interruptions. 

After leaving her office yesterday, she’d spent a good part of the evening wrestling with the issue of what to do about Bond. The only thing she’d decided was that she was lacking crucial pieces of information. Information only he could provide. She really couldn’t make any decisions until she knew for certain what it was Bond wanted.

She’d thought briefly about the appropriateness of having a personal discussion during official working hours but realized it was a case of hiding in plain sight. While it was improper, it would be less likely to raise flags than if she’d asked Bond to stay behind. She wanted to keep things as discreet as possible. She was just about to ring Tanner and ask him to track down Bond, when the man of the hour entered her office. 

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Yes. Please sit.” 

As Bond sat in the chair in front of her desk, M activated the privacy protocols. She waited for Bond to get settled, and then started with the first thing that had been on her mind. “I know that I’d promised to give you a definite answer later this week, but as I tried to gather my thoughts about this situation, I found I had more questions than answers. I don’t feel that I can move forward without further input.”

Bond nodded. “I understand.” He wasn’t surprised by this. It was one of the many things that impressed him about M. How calm and collected she was under pressure. “Whatever you need to know.”

M smiled a little, relaxing as she did so. She’d been worried that Bond would not wish to be forthcoming about his motives, though that would have put a nail in the coffin and buried any hope of starting a relationship. She would never be able to tolerate uncommunicativeness. 

“You say that you’re not playing games; that you’re serious about your intentions, and I believe that _you_ believe that to be so, however, I’m not sure you’ve thought the matter out fully.” 

Bond’s forehead furrowed. “Ma’am?” He wasn’t sure what M meant. He had thought of nothing but her, especially in the last year or so.

M sighed. “Can you see yourself with me a year from now? Five years from now? I am not willing to be a curiosity, James. If this is a case of wanting to try something new or just about the thrill of the chase, I want no part of it.”

Bond hunched in his chair. Damn his reputation anyway. “If you’re asking me whether I want to be with you, and only you, for as long as possible, as long as you’ll have me, the answer is yes.”

Studying Bond’s face, M decided that he was being sincere, but wondered if he’d given much thought to what that entailed. “Will you feel the same way, twenty years from now, when I’m drooling in my tea and you have to wipe my arse?”

Bond was silent.

While his silence made her nervous, M appreciated the fact that he was actually thinking about her question and not just spouting ridiculous platitudes. She knew what her heart wanted, but her mind would not let her proceed without certain guarantees. If Bond could answer her doubts to her satisfaction, they would be able to come to an agreement. 

“Twenty years from now, when you’re drooling in your tea and I’m having to wipe your arse, the only thoughts in my head will be how grateful I am to have had twenty good years, and I how greedy I am to want twenty more. Losing yourself won’t make me love you any less. I’ll remember for the two of us.” 

Bond spoke with a quiet conviction that brought a lump to M’s throat and made her eyes burn. She’d understood that Bond being willing to admit he was giving up skirt chasing because he didn’t want to sleep with anyone but her, was his way of trying to impress upon her how serious he was, but she’d questioned what exactly he was serious about. Hearing him put it into words was a shock to the system. 

Getting older was something that she tried not to think too much about. It wasn’t something she had any control over. When she had paused to think about the frailties that would come upon her as she aged, it was always with a bit of dread, because she’d thought she would be going through that part of her life alone, now that her husband was gone. And now, here was Bond telling her it didn’t have to be so.

M took a deep breath. Normally, she would take the time to consider Bond’s startling declaration and all the ramifications that came with it. Caution was usually her watch word. She’d spent her whole life denying herself things for the good of something bigger. Just this once she was going to take and let the chips fall where they might. Pushing her chair back, she got up and went around her desk to stand in front of Bond.

He looked up at her, a wary, but tentatively hopeful look on his face. When she stepped closer, his legs automatically spread so that she could move between them. His lashes fluttered closed as M’s hand cupped his face, her thumb rubbing against his injured cheek.

“Ma’am?” 

M smiled a little as she watched Bond lean into her touch. “Olivia. When we’re alone or away from work, you can call me Olivia, James.”

Bond’s eyes opened; his gaze full of adoration as he looked at her. “Olivia.”

M shivered. “I know I said I would give you my answer later this week, but I’m finished with thinking, James. As you said earlier, we’ve been circling each other for a long time now. I _could_ have easily put a stop to it with a transfer or a demotion. It would have made you someone else’s problem.” She smiled when Bond frowned.

“Not a reprimand?”

Laughing, M patted Bond’s cheek. “Would a reprimand have stopped you?”

Bond had the good grace to look sheepish. “Probably not.”

“I thought not.” M started to touch Bond’s face, fingers gentle against the damaged skin. “I could have pushed you away officially, but I never did, because I wanted you, even though it was supposed to be wrong. Even though I couldn’t admit it to myself.” 

Lifting her other hand, M raised Bond’s chin. “I’m admitting it now, James.” Leaning closer, M closed her mouth over Bond’s. She felt him jerk, and then still as her tongue darted out to lick at his lips. He groaned, mouth opening under hers; his own tongue flicking forward. They drew back after a minute, both of them breathing hard. 

“How do you feel about dinner?” M smiled again when it took Bond several seconds to register her question.

“Tonight?”

“Yes. I see no reason to adhere to a ridiculous commercial event.”

Bond grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” Curling his hand around the back of M’s neck, he coaxed her closer, meeting her halfway for another kiss.


End file.
